


Overhand, Underhand

by SugarMagic



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: First Date, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Poker Nights, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:30:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4823846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarMagic/pseuds/SugarMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cheating at cards made easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overhand, Underhand

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old piece that I'm unorphaning. It has probably been my most popular piece. I hope you enjoy

"I'm out man."

Scout threw his cards down to the table, finally admitting defeat after three frickin' hours of moving cards around in his hands. He already gambled away four cans of BONK! and he pretty much needed the rest of 'em, and a pair of twos was not gonna cut it. Especially not with the spook in the game.

These poker nights were fun, but Scout had to admit that this was probably the only thing on earth that he legitimately sucked at. Anyone could join in that wanted to, and Scout had jumped on that shit immediately. Poker should be right up his alley, right? With his genius and suave-ness? Yeah, guess not.

Engineer, Medic, and Heavy all dropped their cards on the plastic-faux-wood table. Light was peeking through a few of the many gaps in the ceiling of 2fort, casting shadows on the cards and illuminating traveling dust. There was one pair for Heavy, three of a kind for Medic, shit, Engie even had a flush.

"And that means…" the fifth player said.

Everyone at the table turned to Spy expectantly. Spy took a final drag on a dying brown cigarette before dropping in onto the wood floor and snubbing it out under his shoe. Gently, he spread his hand, laying four queens on the table, all tender and charming, like out of a movie or something. He cocked an eyebrow with a smug-ass look on his face, and damn it, that was Scout's look, the thievin' bastard! Engineer whistled appreciatively. Yeah, that was the frickin' winning hand. Again.

"Well played, gentlemen." Spy began gathering the cards with a smile that was all fake charm that Scout was pretty sure he picked up while lying to chicks to get them into bed. "Go ahead, mon amis, winner cleans up, yes?"

Their team members began moving out of the room. Scout lingered, walking around the makeshift mess hall doing nothing, scuffing his feet on the old wood floor, stalling for time. Spy was shuffling cards, smoothly with a bunch of faggoty flourishes, and this was bullshit, he was gonna find out what was up. No guy wins five games in a row without cheating.

"How'd you get so good at poker, man? Ya kick our asses every time."

"Years of practice," he claimed with a devious smile. "Come here."

Scout trotted over passively. Spy shifted his eyes, checking for others in the beaten-up room briefly before he twisted his wrist, making a show of facing his forearm toward the ceiling. He curled his middle and ring finger down to the base of his palm, slightly into his sleeve, and swept upwards. Up with his fingers came a fuckin' ace of clubs.

"I was so right! You sonuvabitch, you fuckin' cheated! I called it, fuckin' Spies, man!" Scout tossed his hands in the air in annoyance and Spy looked all pleased with himself at Scout's accusation. With his middle finger, Spy pushed the card back into his sleeve.

"This must be our little secret, yes Scout?" HA, fuck that. Like he ain't gonna use that info.

"Then show me how ta do dat," Scout demanded. "Or I'll tell 'em." Spy looked him up and down, eyes sweeping over him. He fought the urge to pose a little, a habit left over from high school. "Come on, man, I wanna win some'a these," Scout said after a few seconds.

That stare was getting a little awkward, making him feel nervous for no reason. Scout's muscles were twitching, longing to do something and get away from the intense scrutinizing eyes of Spy. "Impossible," Spy announced finally, just before Scout was about to blow the whole thing off.

"The fuck ya mean, impossible? It can't be that hard."

"You don't wear long sleeves."

Scout stood straighter and sucked air into his chest. "Pfft, whatever, like that's the only trick you know. Come on, man, you an' me. Teach me poker."

Spy glanced at him again, like he was trying to decide if Scout was smart enough or something. It pissed him off. He thought about calling him on it, but before he could come up with something smart, Spy just said "Alright. 60 – 40 on all winnings."

"Screw that! 50 – 50, don't be frickin' cheap! And give me my BONK! back, bitch!"

"60 – 40. Remember I do not have to cut you in at all. I am doing fine on my own. I believe our last five games attests to that."

"'Cept you showed me you were cheating, smart guy. 50 – 50 or I squeal."

"Gosse," Spy muttered with a fake irritation that was betrayed by his half-smile, all knowing like he predicted Scout was gonna say that from the start. Scout didn't know what that word meant, but it sounded good, like it was a word made to describe him. "Fine, 50 – 50, you blackmailing ruffian."

"Glad ya saw it my way, ya creepy bottom-feeder."

From across the table, Spy smirked and tossed him the ace.

=

They were planning for today's attack, and Scout didn't give a shit because he never paid attention during these things anyway. He knows his job: Kick RED ass. Shit's as simple as that, he doesn't know why they got to spend fifty goddamn minutes scribbling on the floor with chalk about it. Engineer was always the one sketching out their plans, but really, when they hit the field, shit broke loose and everyone parted ways until somebody yelled something, and then they'd rally up. Oh, and what they yell basically never has anything to do with what the team wrote down earlier. So yeah, these were stupid and Scout was bored as hell.

Scout's jaded look brushed over his team mates, arms draping over the back of the chair he was sitting backwards in. Nothing new. Demoman was still drunk, Heavy was still fat, Spy was still suave and controlled and untouchable. Christ, he wished he could ditch this shit, like he used bail out of the stupid school assemblies of his high school and go pal around with his friends. Except Scout didn't really have any friends out here. Usually everybody liked him, but these guys were all old and boring and didn't get him. So what, fuck them. Except Spy. Spy had always been kinda cool to him, in a condescending, I-know-more-than-you kind of way.

Scout's mind went back to that time his rations ran out early from being really really hungry due to drinking too much BONK! and running too much and being eighteen years old. He had sat in silence except for the grumbling of his stomach as everyone else chowed down at dinner, which was weird for him, but he got that way when he was hungry. He had dropped his chin into his hands, feeling like a dumbass. And Spy had noticed.

"Something wrong, boy?" he had asked, straight-faced. Great, pending smart-assedness from Spy, that was all he needed.

"Sure is. You're queering up my field of vision, so…" Scout had made a few sweeping, dismissive gestures with his hands and went back to pouting.

"As you like it," Spy said, no annoyance or cockiness or snark or dejection, and promptly left the table.

Scout sat bored, listening to Soldier lecture the team on the evils of communism, specifically targeting Heavy, who wasn't taking the bait in the least and just sipped his soup with a spoon that was too small for his hand. Scout tapped his fingers on the table, waiting to be "DIS-MISSED MAGGOTS!" because really, just humoring Soldier saved an assload of time.

He left for his room, and threw a ball against the wall from his bed, bored and hungry, until someone rapped at his thin cheap-ass wood door. Scout just grunted, and the door was pushed open.

It was Spy, a plate in hand and a professional posture that spoke all business. Scout actually bothered sitting up, because holy shit, that was a freaking hamburger. And okay, it was between two slices of bread, not a bun, but still, burger none the less. Scout's eye twitched and he really considered tackling Spy and stealing it, but then the plate was dropped in front of him.

"Eat up, boy, it will be better than eighty percent of the garbage we typically eat."

Scout picked of the burger hastily, not wasting time being surprised, and managed to get his mouth around half of it before the lettuce fell out and he bit down. Where the hell Spy had gotten lettuce, he had no idea. In fact, now that he thought of it, a bunch of veggies had shown up via Spy. He wouldn't be surprised if he had a girly little secret garden thriving somewhere in the desert.

There was mustard and lettuce and meat that had a home-made style taste, and the burger was amazing and not only because Scout was hungry as hell. He paused and licked sauce off his fingers before pushing another substantial portion into his mouth.

"I added onion power, and Soldier had Worcestershire sauce because apparently it is excessively American. And that is the last of the beef. So enjoy, yes?"

Spy waited patiently as Scout stuffed his face. "Dis is good. Dis is really really good, man." Scout was talking with his mouth full and a little bit of bread jumped out of his mouth in the process, and he should have been embarrassed but he really wasn't, because he scored a freaking burger.

"I am glad." With that, Spy began walking out of the room. He took about four steps and by then, the burger was gone. Long gone.

"Hey wait!" Scout had said that on impulse, and he didn't really have anything to follow it up with, so the first thing that came to mind would be the line he used. "Take my plate with you, I don't wanna go back down stairs."

Spy shook his head in what looked like amused disbelief. "Ungrateful brat," he said, but took the plate with a smile anyway. Whatever, Spy fed him, he could call Scout whatever he wanted right now. Once again, Spy began to leave the room.

"Yo, hey Spy." Spy turned in the doorway again. "Why did you…" Scout gestured to his empty plate. Spy smiled, coy.

"You are a growing boy, you need your strength." It was a simple answer, and probably a fake one, but Scout didn't care.

"Yeah, I guess. Well, thanks man. I mean, uh, thank ya very much."

"Certamente. Good night, Scout."

"Night!" Scout called, just a little too loud, and then stumbled into the delayed reaction of surprise. Spy had just shared his dinner with him. Scratch that, made him dinner. When Scout never did shit for him. On top of that, it had been freaking delicious. It was kind of the nicest thing anyone has done for him ever.

Back in reality, Spy's eyes flicked to him for a second, and fuck, fuck, Spy just caught him basically staring, and when the hell had he started staring in the first place? When he started his little flashback? Aw, shit. Spy turned his head slightly and glanced at Scout dead on with dark eyes that were suddenly real mysterious and real deep and a little creepy. Scout met the look, and then Spy smiled at him, half his mouth curving upwards all slow. In a rush, Scout's guts flipped in a really pussy way that felt all at once like he was gonna puke and get a boner, and it brought blood into his face.

Spy looked away as quickly as he had turned his eyes on him and gestured at the sketches with long, elegant fingers, and Scout exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding. The entire thing lasted maybe two seconds tops, but the dancing in his stomach didn't stop until the meeting broke up and he banged his knee on the table edge from trying to get up too fast. "Fuckin' shit," he grunted, and only half of it was because he just smashed his knee cap.

Scout was restless as hell after that. It took waaay too long for ceasefire to end that morning.

Killing REDs helped. Like, an ass-load of REDs. He didn't take his hands off Sandman, not to grab his scattergun or hit a dispenser or nothin'. Ceasefire was soon, and Scout was feeling good, crouched behind a wall, ready to explode into a run and bust the skull of that Pyro through that stupid fuckin' helmet thing.

"Scout! Come here." Scout whipped around. From behind a corner Spy was gesturing at him to get over there, and if he didn't know that Spies couldn't turn into other Spies, he woulda been real suspicious. Still. Weird. Spy never asked for nobody's help.

"Yeah, what's up, man?" Scout called.

"Keep it down, idiot! Come over here."

Scout shrugged and jogged to him, and Spy smiled wickedly. His hand shot out and clamped around Scout's bare forearm. Scout was yanked forward, into Spy's body, against him, twirled, and pinned to the wall. Scout gasped aloud, and he was pretty sure he was dead, but then Spy flickered, disguise triggering, and he was released.

"Don't die, bitch!" Spy shouted with Scout's voice and dashed off with Scout's body, and Scout stared after him like a knucklehead. He almost got shot before he came to his senses. The Heavy that was gunning for him eventually got taken down by one of Engie's toys, but not before Scout almost got killed. After that, he was way off his game.

Scout avoided everyone (especially Soldier, he was gonna be bitched at, he knew it) after the fight and just went to his room and chilled and tried to sleep around a weird excitement he couldn't get out of his system. The spot on his arm that Spy had grabbed tingled for the rest of the day, and then some into tomorrow.

=

Their main strategy in poker was a series of coded touches. A foot press for queens, elbows brushing for kings, taps on the foot counting the numbers of everything else, knees pressed together when they wanted a specific card. At the moment they were passing cards, sliding them into each other's hands. Spy manipulated them easily with deft fingers, doing it all one handed and using the other to smoke. Their wrists brushed and Scout promptly dropped a card in his lap, two totally unrelated events, though, no link between them at all. He looked down to fish it out from between his legs. Still, he smirked when he got it into Spy's hand and leaned back in the ancient chair.

"How was that? Pretty pro, right?"

"Not so much. If you drop a card, let it go. Do not look at your lap and grab at your crotch. It looked like you were about to masturbate at the table."

"Yeah? Well, you looked like you were about to beg me to be fuck you in the ass!" Spy rolled his eyes with an exasperated look, and Scout was real happy about that for some reason. "S'all right, it makes sense. I mean, check me." Scout flexed and arched an eyebrow. "Huh? Whatcha think?"

"Very impressive, Scout. Women must love a man with the physique of a twelve year old."

"Yeah, almost as much as they love a guy who's sucked more cock than they have."

Spy snorted, rolling with one of Scout's many fag jokes this time, and busied himself with a rather convincing overhand shuffle. Scout moved a few cards.

"Hey man, know what sucks? Tony C's sitting out this year, because that ball hit 'im in the face, ya know? So he's like, takin' a year off or somethin'. We need him man, this sucks, right?" Scout said, kind of out of nowhere, but it had been on his mind recently and none of the other old farts here were gonna give a shit about Tony C. He had talked baseball to Spy a million times in their two weeks of tentative friendship and even if Spy didn't really care the guy always seemed interested in everything. He seemed like the kind of guy that always wanted to learn new shit.

"Ah, our little record holder has decided to skip a season? Well, it is not surprising, his injury was fairly serious. But I believe he is overrated anyway, so the Red Sox still have a chance. One batter is not so important as a well coordinated team."

"Overrated nuthin'! Man, do you even know what he did? A hundred home runs at twenty-two? No one's gonna beat that. 'Cept maybe me." Scout pantomimed hitting a home run and made the noise of an adoring cheering crowd, and Spy laughed, not at him, just kind of like he was happy for him or somethin', and Scout grinned back.

Scout has to admit, after getting to know him and shit through simple small talk and meaningful looks that told him even more, Spy was actually awesome, more so than he'd thought. He was quick tongued, cocky in a subdued way that wasn't obnoxious, smart, and a good cook. And now that he listed it, basically, Spy was almost a gayer version of Scout, plus the ability to scramble eggs without burning them. He was the kind of awesome that made him think that if Spy was a chick, Scout would've fucked him sixty times over in a week and then gotten him to suck his cock in between rounds. If his bros found out he was thinking that, they'd call him frickin' queer. But he's not, he's not a fag or anything. The bitches at home had always been all over him, and yeah, he hadn't done anything yet, but that was just because he was waiting for better ones. The ones at home were goddamn boring. Now he's stuck out here with eight other guys and Spy has some sweet moves and that smooth voice and just seems real classy all the time. But like he said, not a fag. Spy was just really cool.

"Again," the Frenchman said, and tossed Scout a queen of diamonds.

"Aw, look, it's you," Scout teased and flapped the card in front of Spy's face. Spy responded with something in French and a wicked smile, and it made the back of Scout's neck tingle. They sat in quite companionability that was bordering on awkward for awhile after that, passing cards under the table, and a thought was gnawing on Scout's brain every time their fingers touched or their knees brushed or Spy snatched a card from him.

"Why did you show me you were cheating anyway?" Scout asked, voice quite. If it were anyone else, it could have sounded shy. Spy looked at him with lidded eyes.

"Perhaps I find you interesting and used it as an excuse to get close to you." Spy took a casual drag on his cigarette. Scout balked.

No way. No fuckin' way. His face was probably like a fucking tomato right now, what the hell? Spy had to be making fun of him. "Man what the-"

"And perhaps not," the other man added, exhaling smoke. It hit Scout's senses hard as he unintentionally inhaled it, and yet he found himself breathing it deeply on purpose seconds later.

=

"Scout," Spy purred, all seduction and bedroom eyes, and he leaned in easy, hesitating for half a second before pressing their lips together, gentle but insistent. Scout gasped into the sudden kiss, letting Spy into his mouth simultaneously. Spy tongue licked against the roof of his mouth, and Scout shivered, bringing his hands up to clutch at Spy's shoulders. Spy sucked his tongue, fucking sucked it, and Scout had to dig his fingers into the overcoat.

Suddenly, somehow they were in Scout's room from wherever the hell they were before, Scout didn't know, and Spy's hands were all over him before pushing him in the chest, onto the tiny bed which seemed bigger than normal. Spy's balaclava was off, because he trusted Scout, and then Spy was on him, mouths together, biting on Scout's bottom lip. Scout adjusted the angle of the kiss, giving him better access, and somehow flipped them, pinning Spy beneath him. He turned the kiss feverish, that's how he wanted it, and Spy groaned against him, and, and…

Scout woke with a start, feeling drained and exhilarated all at once. And there was a wet heat quickly cooling between his thighs. Oh shit. Scout lifted the blankets to inspect himself, and yup, there was definitely come seeping through his underwear and into the blanket, and goddamn, that didn't just happen, it didn't. Except it did, he just had a wet dream about Spy. Dreaming of just kissing him had gotten him off.

Something was wrong with him. This little sorta bro-crush (yeah, he admitted it, ignoring it hadn't worked, obviously) was getting serious. Because he just came in his sleep like he's frickin' thirteen. Maybe he was a fag for Spy. Maybe as in he definitely wanted him, except it's more than that because all Scout felt like doing these days was hanging around him. He didn't give a shit, all he wanted was to get Spy's attention. All the time. He wanted to bug the shit out of him so that Spy would fucking drop whatever he was doing and see, hear, feel Scout, and that's it, nothing else. He wanted to hold Spy, press them close together and maybe kiss him every now in then. Shit, even thinking about holding hands was making his chest flutter.

Scout sighed loudly and fell back onto the bed. Yeah. That was pretty fucking gay.

=

"I am surprised you do not focus more on the RED Spy since he fucked your mother," Spy commented one day as they practiced, all off-handed like he didn't just diss on Scout's Ma. "It seems like something you would do."

"Hey, shut the fuck up about my Ma, ya backstabbing coward! He probably used some mind-control seduction shit on her or somethin'…"

"We do not have 'mind control,' Scout. Seduction, yes, but not so much with mind control."

"Didn't I just say 'shut the fuck up'? Yeah, pretty sure I did." Scout flung a card at Spy's head in annoyance. Spy caught it easily and handed it back to him.

"I can help you kill him, you know. Both your mother and I would benefit greatly if the risk of consistent vengeance frightened him enough to chase him off."

"What, so you can score with her? Fuck you, man." Scout was getting 'snippy and defensive,' as his bitch student counselor had said, but it was his Ma. He balled his fists, digging the nails in. Spy and his Ma… His stomach turned, twice as fiercely as it had when he found out that RED Spy was screwing her like she was some kind of slut.

"I would not betray you like that. Being a spy does not mean that I am devoid of honor."

"Pfft, yeah it does."

Spy barked out a dry laugh. "Alright, perhaps, but relax. One such as your mother holds no interest to me."

"What, my Ma not good enough for ya?" Scout snapped moodily. He leaned towards Spy, trying to look intimidating. He was gettin' real sick of this shit, of Spy's fucking words that always left him hanging somehow, not knowing what he meant and wanting to know more, more about Spy and what went on in his brain. Scout coulda sworn the bastard planned it that way.

"That is not what I mean, boy. I shall use an American phrase: She is not my type. In fact, she is rather the opposite. My tastes are a bit more… well, let's simply say, not so very feminine. Understand?" Spy tilted his head back and exhaled smoke in a smooth stream before giving Scout a meaningful, challenging look. A chill went through Scout as the implication hit him, because fuck. Because Spy…

"You like- You're saying –" Scout tumbled over his next five words before finally settling on "You fuck guys?" Spy just looked at him, just gave him that one fuckin' look that drove him crazy. Scout bit into his own tongue, feeling more nervous than when he went up to bat for the first time in his first real game. But instead of saying something, doing something, Spy simply pushed a sleeve up to look at his invisi-watch.

"30 minutes until ceasefire ends. Forgive me, but I have preparations to make. Do excuse me, mon lapin."

Okay, that was a fuckin' yes. Had to be, he woulda denied it otherwise. "Yeah. Prep," he breathed, but Spy is already long gone from the room. "Yeah, me too." All kinds of shit flashed in his mind, like Spy with his mouth curled around some guy's cock or Spy with his legs thrown over his head as he's getting fucked or Spy doing, fuck, everything, anything he wanted, and doing it to Scout, god fuckin' damn it. All the times he teased Spy about being queer, and it was all fuckin' true.

He continued to sit there, almost still, jostling his knees and thinking too hard before it was just too much, too fuckin' much, 'cause Scout didn't like to sit still even when there wasn't fire and euphoria burning under his skin. He sprinted to his room and slammed the door, throwing himself onto the bed and groaning into the cheap pillow. He was hard as fuck.

Scout got up and paced for eight steps before falling onto the bed again. He plunged his hand into his underwear, and he was gonna think about Spy while he jerked off because shit, how was he supposed to not? But as he fisted his cock furiously and desperately with his pants pushed down to his thighs, instead of Spy's mouth or ass or face, mon lapin, mon lapin, mon lapin spiraled through his mind again and again.

=

"That's the most homo thing anyone's done ever," Scout commented idly, tapping Sandman against the floor as he watched Spy ironing his clothes. They didn't have a real iron, why the hell would they, so Spy was using the bottom of a hot frying pan, smoothing out wrinkles carefully, sweeping the pan quickly so he wouldn't burn his precious fuckin' suit. After a few minutes, Spy whispered a curse in French and brought his finger up to his mouth to suck.

"What the hell are you doing?" Scout asked as Spy's index finger slipped past lips that were a little thin but looked hotter wrapped around his finger than any porno girl's wrapped around a cock ever had.

"I burned myself," he said. Then under his breath, "Merde, j'ai une ampoule."

"Aww, what, baby asking me ta kiss it better?"

"Embrassez mon âne, Scout," Spy said, offhanded. Okay, fuck that. Spy doesn't get to say shit he doesn't understand and then put his name in the same sentence.

"Man, what's all that crap constantly? Would it kill ya ta use English?" The Frenchman gave him a sly look and purred something else to him in the foreign language. Scout snorted. "Hows 'bout this, how 'bout you quit babbling stupid shit in a pussy language no one understands and I don't smack you in the nuts with this." Scout jostled Sandman in his left hand, but he was kinda smiling, 'cause he's frickin' lame and can't keep a straight face.

"As you like it, mon lapin."

The mention of those mysterious word made the hair on the back of Scout's neck rise. He was gonna go nuts if he didn't find out what the hell it meant. "What the fuck does that mean? Hey, don't you ignore me, you snail-sucking queer, what the fuck is 'lapin'?"

"You wish to know?" Spy's look suddenly turned serious, and he dropped the pan in the sink. He walked to Scout, stepping in close, close enough for Scout to feel his heat.

"Uh, ya- yeah?" Real fuckin' smooth, but he barely even got that out, because Spy was way up in his personal space.

"It means…" A gloved hand came up to cup the back of his neck, and Scout definitely blushed like a little bitch. Their faces were brought together and for a second Scout was frickin' positive (and really really scared) that Spy was gonna kiss him right on the mouth. His hands shot up to grasp Spy's shoulders and he closed his eyes, just so he was ready, but Spy bypassed his mouth completely and instead his hot breath ghosted across the skin of his ear and the cotton of the balaclava brushed his cheek, which was just as seductive and intimate than a kiss woulda been anyways. "Rabbit," he whispered, and pulled away.

"Rabbit?" Scout mimicked, dumbstruck. His face felt all warm from where their cheeks had (kinda) touched and he missed the heat as soon as Spy separated them. Then, "Wait, rabbit? What the fuck, rabbit, are you serious? Don't you mean like, 'badass,' or 'stud' or somethin'?"

"I do not, mon lapin." Spy dragged the last two words out, smirking. "'My rabbit' is the perfect label for you. Quick as a bunny, no?" Spy took a drag on his cigarette and smiled.

Scout's mind got snagged on the word 'my.' "Your rabbit?"

"That would be the meaning of 'mon.'" Goddamn it, why did Spy have to have it together all the frickin' time? Couldn't he just fuckin' stutter or something? Just so Scout didn't have to feel like such a blockhead?

"Come on, dick, you know what I'm talking about."

"Do I?" Spy purred, and Scout kinda wanted to punch him in the face for using that kind of voice this early in the day.

"Yeah, ya do. Yours? Really?" Scout tried to sound incredulous or annoyed, but it came out just sort of hopeful.

"Mine," Spy said, flicking the brim of Scout's hat. "Really. Do not think I have not noticed."

Scout sucked in a breath and ducked away from Spy, tugging his cap down to hide behind the brim, and he couldn't think of any other response than to hurriedly escape the room and then feel like an idiot for doing so.

=

It rained in the night, so everything smelled fresh and natural, like grass-lined pavement in the summer time. The dried out soil seemed new and alive, and it squished a little under Scout's cleats as he ran, bee-lining for the spot Spy had said the RED Spy would be, low in their own base, the cocky bastard, stealthed and ballsy.

Scout sprinted down, into the lower portion of their half of 2fort, feet meeting clean tile instead of shallow mud. He thought about calling Pyro for a Spy Check, but this was something he wanted to do by himself. He knew he could do it alone anyway, and besides, it was too late now. That bitch should be right there.

Scout rounded the corner with a confident laugh, and yeah, there the RED spook was, facing a wall, not even disguised. He crept in close, close enough to see what the hell the prick was doing leaning against a wall face first, and suddenly avenging the honor of his Ma didn't mean shit because RED Spy had his Spy pinned, forearm pressed to his neck. Spy was struggling, cursing in French, and RED Spy grabbed Spy's hair through the balaclava and smashed his head against the wall with predatory smirk. RED Spy licked his lips, looking whorish and suggestive, and it made Scout more pissed off than anything else ever had in his whole life.

Scout screamed and leapt, throwing himself onto the back of that goddamn motherfuckin' cocksucker and pulling his pistol to the RED Spy's neck. The barrel was digging into the Spy's jugular, and it felt good, real fuckin' good. Spy slumped away as RED Spy staggered backwards under Scout's weight, but just before Scout pulled the trigger that shithead whirled and threw him. Still Scout managed three shots, two of which missed and one of which sent a bullet deep into the RED Spy's shoulder. The other man grunted and staggered, and that was enough time to get Sandman out. The first swing hit him in the face, breaking his nose, making RED Spy choke, and the next was to the side of his head, and the bastard was down, twitching. Six bonks later, brains and blood were all over his cleats and socks and the previously immaculate floor and Fuck. Yes. He was so badass, he finally got a kill on that motherfucker!

"Woohoohoo! Who fucked who now ya little bitch, huh? Yeah, that's right, that's right!" Scout bounced around the body and gleefully kicked it a few times before it disappeared to respawn, and then he wheeled towards Spy. "Ahaha! Ya see that shit, were ya watching? I owned that fuc- Spy? Ya okay, man?"

And apparently the answer to that was 'no,' because Spy was struggling out of his suit jacket clumsily and wincing the whole time. His eyes were big and black, not smoky blue like they were supposed to be, and Medic had said something about that meaning something bad, he couldn't remember because he hadn't been paying attention at the time, shit, why hadn't he been listening? There was blood all over the back of his shirt, and Spy swooned a tiny bit.

"Zat bastard. Zees ees my favoreet suit." Spy's accent was heavier than normal and his right hand quivered a little as he felt the long tear in the jacket, trying to guess its size. Blood was seeping through his balaclava from his nose. A lot of it. And then his head lulled back, his mouth gaping. The blood slid into his mouth and he didn't respond, didn't spit or nothin'. And it freaked Scout right the fuck out.

Scout dropped Sandman and dashed to Spy's side and for a second he was terrified - fuckin' terrified - that Spy was dead, because sometimes the respawn failed and they had to bring in new guys and shit shit shit, no. But Spy was out but breathing, breathing more evenly than Scout was, in fact, because Scout couldn't stop holding breaths whenever he panicked.

"Hey! Hey Spy, wake up man, wake the fuck up!" Scout slapped him gently, then harder, and Spy still wasn't moving. He tried to remember what the fuck to do but his head was just numb, full of static. "Okay. Okay okay okay, I'm gonna… Fuck!" He didn't know. He had no damn clue.

In desperation, he slapped Spy across the face again. Nothing. Right, okay, yeah, um… Okay. He didn't know what to do, but Medic did. "Medic!" he screamed. "Medic Medic Medic, right fucking now, you pussy faggot!"

"A bit busy, Hurr Scout," Medic called from somewhere, and Scout thanked Christ for the echo that carried his shouts up the corridor in the first place.

"Get your fucking kraut ass over here or I'll fucking shoot you, how's dat for busy?" The doctor appeared in the corridor entrance, breaking the beam he had trained to Heavy seconds ago. To emphasize his point, Scout drew his scattergun and pointed it at Medic's face, one handed. He was too far away to hit him, but that worked, Medic was on his way, half running, medigun in hand. He crouched at Spy, pulling his eyelids open to inspect his pupils, then snorted.

"You call me avay for this? He has a concussion, that iz all. Take Hurr Spy to da infirmary and I shall treat him avter. Do not bother me ven I am vorking."

"How about you shoot him with your magic medicine gun, ya prick? Do it, I'm not fuckin' around, I'll kill you! I will fuckin' kill you if you don't help him! And I'll make it fuckin' hurt!" Scout was still panicking, pacing aggressively, because concussions were serious, right? And this bastard was just gonna leave Spy like that like a fucking Nazi? Fuck that!

"Mein Gott, Dummkopf Hurensohn…" Medic continued to mutter curses in German as he fired the medigun. The blue energy swirled around Spy, and still, still Spy didn't move. The beam died down after a few seconds.

"That's it? That didn't do shit! Come on, Doc, come on come on come on, do something!"

Medic pulled his glasses off to pinch at the bridge of his nose, and then replaced them. "Infirmary, Scout. Shoo."

Scout looked at Spy, limp and unconscious, and reconsidered. "Yeah, okay. Yeah, I got him." Medic swept away, white coat billowing, and Scout dipped to Spy's side. "Alright, man, let's go," he said to the unconscious man. One arm slipped behind his back and the other behind his knees, and Spy was in his arms, pressed against him, and damn, he was heavier than he looked. All muscle, he could feel it. They made it about ten feet towards the base with Spy's blood falling on the white tile, and then slowly the weight in his arms was shifting. Spy was waking up, and Scout's heart started beating again.

"Mornin', princess," Scout tried to say, but it ended up more of a whisper.

"Hnng… Why am I afraid that I will open my eyes and see a bratty teenage boy instead of prince charming?" Slowly Spy opened his eyes, looked directly into Scout's, then sighed. "… Merde, correct as always."

"Shut up, fag," Scout managed lamely, and his throat was still thick with worry. "You okay to walk?" Scout stopped to release him, but looked down and saw the blood that was getting all over his arms, finally noticed the coppery smell in the air, and pulled Spy a little closer to his body. "Naw, never mind, screw it, I'm carrying you."

"I am well enough to walk, Scout." Spy twisted in his arms, trying to get down, but paused when Scout just adjusted his grip instead of letting him go.

"Yeah, well, this is just, ya'know, easier. I'm not puttin' ya down, stop wigglin'." Scout bounced him once, trying to still him. They trudged through the dust, the screams, the gun fire, the explosions ringing all around them. Spy smiled in his arms and curled his own around Scout's neck in what was kinda like a hug.

"Merci beaucoup, mon lapin."

Spy turned his head to the side, nuzzling his face right into Scout's neck. And if Spy wasn't out of it and already passed out again, Scout woulda sworn he felt a kiss pressed into his skin as he walked.

=

"Hey, man." Scout leaned against the doorframe to the infirmary, trying to look as confident as he felt.

"Good evening, mon lapin," sighed Spy. He propped himself up by the elbows, making some of the sterile white blanket slide down his torso. Oh. Yeah, Spy was defiantly topless right now. And that shouldn't be a big deal but Scout had never seen him without a shirt on, unlike basically everyone else, and somehow seeing pink little nipples on someone who's always clothed felt as intimate as catching a glance at his dick would. He choked a little, but turned it into a laugh at the end. He sauntered over to Spy's bed, and dropped himself onto it in a sitting position without permission, one leg curled under himself and the other hanging off the bed.

"So roll over, lemme see." Scout traced a spiral in the air with his index finger, and Spy obliging turned onto his stomach. Fuck, he had a real muscular back. A real muscular back with like thirty stitches running down it. Inwardly, he winced. But only inwardly. "Pfft, I can't believe you fainted like that! Look at that, what is it like two inches?" More like five. "Never knew you were such a pussy, man."

"It was not so much the cut as it was the head trauma," Spy sighed.

"Yeah, he got you good with the wall thing. Don't worry, I'm gonna beat his skull in for ya next time I see him."

"My hero."

"Yeah, I am," Scout said with a grin.

Spy rolled onto his back, not seeming to mind that he was putting weight on his stitches. "Would my daring savior please hand me my cigarettes? Medic would not let me smoke."

"'Course." Scout fished the cigarette case and lighter out of the breast pocket of the blue jacket draped over a chair (he knew they'd be there because he'd seen Spy pull them out a million times) and tossed them over. Spy caught the case deftly and lit one, balancing it elegantly between two fingers. But he held it in his left hand, not his right, like normal.

"Damn, he really messed you up, huh?"

Spy snorted. "Yes, and quite skillfully, too. He defeated me fairly. Well, relatively speaking," Spy added after the look Scout gave him when he used the word 'fair.' "I am man enough to admit that he is a better Spy than I am. Not as well dressed, but a better Spy in some aspects." Spy smiled enigmatically, but it was the kind of smile that's totally sad or disappointed or somethin' underneath.

"Hey, man, it's okay. That other Scout, he… yeah, okay, he sucks ass, bad example. But like, back when I was on this baseball team at home, there was this one dick, totally cocky and shit, and no matter how good I did his average was always fucking better than mine. Fucking pissed me off, I swear ta God I wanted to choke his ass every time I saw him. He's the kinda guy that acts all big even when he ain't. What, what's so funny?" The man beside him was chuckling lightly, and Scout gave him a befuddled look.

"Nothing, mon lapin, nothing. Your average never seemed to catch up, do continue." Awesome. Spy was listening to him, like he always did, and Scout's chest heated up into something all fuzzy and warm, and he scooted a little closer to his friend. He really, really thought about making their fingertips brush or something on the edge of the bed, just for like half a second, but the idea seemed really stupid and cheesy. He didn't not do it 'cause he was scared to. Nah, he wasn't scared at all.

"Anyway, I didn't really do nothing until he called me a faggot and then I punched him in the face an' broke his nose. Got kicked off the team and didn't beat his record, but he's an ugly motherfucker now with a crooked beak. Point is, ya can't win 'em all. I can, but you can't. Heh. Shit kinda evens out though, ya'know?" Scout finished, feeling awesome. That was a sweet story that made him feel all insightful and wise. It let Spy know he was more than just an amazing runner that could kick the shit out of anybody and was real good looking, he also had some smarts to top it off. "And be more fuckin' careful, by the way, you could have fuckin' died. Then who'd help me cheat at cards, huh?"

"Point taken. You certainly couldn't do it by yourself," Spy smirked a little, and fuck knows why but Scout found it kind of sexy. "But, in all seriousness, there is something I must discuss with you. It is clear that you are attracted to me, and-" Scout cut him off by stuttering something, shit if he knew what, and his face heated up like crazy. "Hush, lapin." Spy said it simply, a command, but a careful one if tone means anything. Scout worked on trying to die in order to dodge Spy's next words. "You are attracted to me and I am attracted to you." Oh. Scout's eyes went wide and he sucked in a harsh, shocked breath, and bit the inside of his cheek and fiddled with the border of his athletic tape, and Spy ignored it and continued. "With things this way, perhaps we should arrange to meet somewhere privately to spend time alone together?"

"Ya mean like a date?" Scout bit into his lip as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

"Precisely like a date."

Scout's heart jumped, and he was pretty sure it was gonna pound right outta his chest. The miserable feelings of a few seconds ago were completely forgotten. "Shit yeah! That- Uh, I mean, I'm not queer but if you want to that'd be kinda cool," Scout corrected. He didn't wanna seem over-eager like some little school-girl. Except he was. Over-eager, not a girl. "Um, how about six?" Yeah, six, that was like an hour from now.

"Eight. Meet me at the bridge. Our side." Spy sat up, leaned in, cupped the back of Scout's neck. He put pressure there, encouraging Scout forward, easing their faces together. Scout was gonna get kissed and he closed his eyes and bit his lip from the inside on some weird crush instinct, and when Spy was close enough for Scout to feel his breath against his lips -

Medic exploded into the room with loud steps and fury. "Geet avay from mein patient! He needs za resting!" Spy leaned back onto the bed, abandoning Scout casually, and Scout maybe sort of whined in his throat a little. "Shoo, shoo! Raus, Balg!" Medic was making sweeping motions with his hands, and Scout wanted to kill him. He wheeled with a glare.

"Yeah, sure, now you're all 'mine patient.' Fuck you man, where was that attitude on the field, huh? I should fuckin' crack your goddamn skull, you-" Scout was gonna spout some insult, whatever came to mind, but then there was a warm smooth hand covering his, tender but insistent. He turned towards Spy, shutting up.

"Until tonight, mon lapin," Spy said simply. He lifted Scout's hand and leaned forward until his face was parallel and kissed the back of it, lips to the skin just behind his knuckles. Scout couldn't take his eyes off Spy as he was bodily yanked up and pushed from the room by Medic, stumbling, not paying attention to a damn thing but the man on the bed.

After the doors of the infirmary slammed behind him, he ran to his room, almost tripping on the stairs, and spent the rest of the night trying to decide which of his shirts was the cleanest.

=

Scout was half an hour early, because damn it, a guy can only wait around in his room so much before a first date without wanting to pull his hair out, and that was really hard with hair as short as his. He had paced (which he was just realizing he did all the damn time), tried to read a sports mag and tried to talk to Demoman about whatever the hell, and none of that had worked so here he was.

He was flat on his back in the dust, looking up at the almost cloudless sky. It was starry out, always was out here, not like home. His mind was abuzz with a weird nervousness, but watching the little twinkling dots was helping. The air was warm with a slow and rare breeze and he was actually almost falling asleep after awhile. And then he heard footsteps. Scout tilted his head back, smearing his hatless hair into the dirt, and saw Spy walking towards him from upside down. He considered leaping up to greet him, or sitting up and turning casually and arching an eyebrow, all cool, or just fuckin' running because, shit, suddenly he wasn't sure he could do this.

"Hello, lapin." Spy voice was smooth like cream and seduction. Scout's gut was twisting nervously like a stupid kid's.

"Hi. I'm just, ya'know, looking at stars."

"Allow me to join you. Perhaps I can teach you something."

"Sure." Scout inched to the side, making space even when there was already like an infinite amount. Spy didn't respond, simply laid on his back next to Scout, which was actually surprising, because everyone knew that Spy was in to keeping that suit immaculate.

"Do you see this star here? The bright blue one?"

"That one?" Scout asked, pointing. Hopefully that was it. It was at least blue and bright.

"Yes, that one. That is Sirius." Spy pointed a little lower, to another bright star. "Below is Wezen, the weight. To the left, Aludra, the virgin. A bit like you, yes, Scout?" Bitch. Whatever, he'd let that one slide. "Finally, Furud, the bright single one. Also a bit like you." As he spoke, Spy slid his gloved hand down Scout's forearm and into his open palm. The forearm thing made him shiver but Scout smirked at the sky when his hand was slowly wrapped in Spy's fingers. Hand holding? Wasn't that a like virgin shit? (And yeah he'd thought about it but that's not the point.) His brothers had always told them holding hands was lame, never a good move if you wanna get laid, but still, Scout's fingers curled into Spy's slightly smaller hand immediately on instinct, and their palms touched and Spy's fingers stoked gently. And it felt nice. "Do you see how it makes a constellation? That is Canis Major."

"Yeah, I think I see it." And no, he couldn't see it at all, but he'd be damned if was gonna look like an idiot in front of Spy tonight. Spy shifted his gaze to another star and began to detail the legends and positions of constellations, and Scout really wasn't that interested but it gave him a chance to stare at Spy. He had a really interesting nose, kind of hooked, and Scout really wanted to pull that balaclava off to see more, more of his nose and cheeks and jaw.

"You do not care, do you, lapin?" There was amusement in his voice, and Scout wouldn't have been attentive enough to his voice to have heard it if he hadn't seen Spy's lips move.

"Huh? No, no, I'm listening…" Yet another moment of bullshit. Well, it worked on girls. And his Ma. Apparently it was satisfying enough for Spy, too, because he didn't respond. And didn't respond. And didn't respond some more. Scout wanted to bring up something else, something they could both talk about, but he didn't really know what.

By now they had grown accustomed to sitting quietly, even if no one else on Earth believed Scout capable of that, but Scout didn't want things like that right now because this was a date. The silence quickly turned oppressive and Scout had to say something or he was gonna go fuckin' crazy, and the next thing that came to mind would be what came out of his mouth, he could tell, he got that way sometimes.

"You know ya wanna suck my cock right now." 

… Fuck.

In this moment, Scout was pretty sure he's a total dumbass retard numbnuts shithead. First date, first date with Spy, who he really really liked, (and that may sound sissy but fuck it, it was true) and that's what he says? Goddamn it.

"Do I now?" his partner asked, and his voice was perfectly neutral and Scout couldn't read a thing in it. "Because that certainly was not my intention for the evening." Aw crap, scratch that, he was pissed. Spy's hand left his.

"No. I mean- I didn't - I said that cause-" Scout took a slow deep breath, trying to clam his ass down, a trick his cross-country coach had taught him. "Shit, man, I was just hopin' ta get ta first base at best. I was just, just fuckin' with ya, with the whole 'suck my cock' thing. I just wanted ta see whatcha'd do." The words came out wavering. After a moment, he added "Sorry." Scout toed dirt around with the tips of his cleats and looked at the first star Spy had pointed out, but after a moment, he could feel Spy's warm smile on him. Scout turned his head to look at him and smiled back a little.

"First base? I'm afraid I do not understand how that applies to us at this moment."

"It's uh, it's kinda stupid." Scout blushed and looked away, because he really didn't want to mention anything else sexual for the rest of the night, not to Spy.

"No, lapin, do tell."

"Uh, sure. First base is just kissing, but on the mouth, cheek or whatever doesn't count. Second base is, um, feeling up, third base is blowjobs and fourth is, ya'know…" Scout trailed off. He didn't know why he didn't want to say it.

"Sex?" Shit, the way Spy's voice caressed that word, goddamn. Scout nodded and squirmed, surreptitiously adjusting himself in his pants. "I see. And so, what you referred to before, that would be third base?"

"Ye-yeah,"

"You know, mon lapin… I really would not mind." There was a something in Spy's voice that was low and rolling and fucking hot.

"Mind what?" Scout asked, but his heart pounded at the possibility of what he thought he meant.

"Sucking your cock," Spy purred.

"What?" Scout shot straight up, and the blood in his body couldn't decide if it wanted to settle in his face or in his cock. "Are ya, are ya serious?"

Spy smirked at him and sat up, twisting himself towards Scout. A long, elegant finger traced down his neck, pausing at the clavicle. Spy opened his palm, hand flat against his chest, pushing Scout back down. Spy leaned forward and they were chest to chest, and Spy tilted his head up and Scout could feel his breath on his skin and then Spy arched up slightly to nip at the skin of Scout neck. Scout gasped and threw his arms around Spy, not believing this was happening.

"No. Not really."

"Aww, what the fuck!" The disappointment was pretty intense, but that was still hot, and it was enough. "You goddamn cocktease, fuck you, I got blue balls now." Scout laughed and punched him in the shoulder and then things were chill again. Except Spy was still pretty much on top of him. And damn was he starting to feel it. He needed to talk again, and hopefully not say something retarded this time.

"So um." Scout tried to prop himself up on his elbows. Spy didn't accommodate like he thought he would, and instead gently pushed Scout back down. Scout swallowed. "I was thinking, with poker night, Demo has a bunch of booze just laying around, so probably we can get away with bagging some, and if we get everyone wasted we can- Hnng…"

Spy's hot tongue dragged up his neck, sudden and sure, before his whole mouth came down to basically stroke the skin there, and fuck, oh fuck, it felt amazing and if Spy kept doing that he was gonna come in his pants without even being touched like a premo fag. And that thought happened at the same time Spy started to suck, and yeah, Scout was gonna splatter his load all over the inside of his pants any second now, it felt so fucking good.

Scout was harder than he'd even been in his life in under thirty seconds, and he wanted so much, wanted Spy so bad, and he wanted to curl his fingers in Spy hair but he couldn't, and that sucked, and then Spy nipped at his chin and he kind of stopped caring about anything but that mouth.

They were flush against each other for awhile, legs tangling. Spy sat up then, pulling them apart, to sit on Scout's hips. He can probably feel it, Scout thought, and then Spy kind of wiggled, and then he couldn't help it anymore. He grabbed Spy's hips and ground up with his own, cock to ass. Scout moaned, high pitched and desperate, and above him, Spy froze. "Sorry," he mumbled immediately, but he pressed his hips up again and slid his hands downs Spy's ass. He dug his fingers in, maybe a little too hard, but fuck if Spy's ass wasn't fucking perfect, like it was made for his hands. His eyes were squeezed shut tight as he pretty much dry humped Spy, so he could only feel it when Spy scooted forward away from his hips to sit on his stomach. Okay, that was kinda uncomfortable.

Spy swung himself off of Scout without a word and Scout gasped, but didn't complain or get angry or nothing, because more than he wanted to get off with Spy (which was a lot) he wanted to not fuck this up. Spy knelt next to him, and Scout opened his eyes just stared at the stars and not Spy because he was pretty fucking embarrassed if he was being honest. He had pretty much just been rejected, what the fuck happened now? He'd ask, but his throat was too tight to speak.

"It is late. I believe it would be best if we both retire." Spy descended and kissed him on the forehead before moving to get up. Ice flooded Scout's veins and it felt like he was being stabbed in the gut. Which had actually happened to him before, so he knew and wasn't exaggerating.

"Wait!" Scout cried, almost shrieked, and his voice cracked when he said it. Like that doesn't make him feel even more like a douche. "I know I- I didn't mean- I'm sorry I-" Great, that was his second word fumble of the evening too, way to fuckin' go. Scout bit his lip. "I'm not like, just trying to get sex. Can we just forget that and just…" Scout used one hand to cover his hard-on and the other to gesture weakly at the ground. "Just keep chilling?"

Spy swept his eyes over Scout with a little smile, the same way he had when he was deciding whether or not Scout was a worthy poker partner. "Scout," Spy said, and it sounded really soothing, even though it did nothing to calm Scout's mile-a-minute heartbeat. "Do not worry. You have not scared me off." Spy ran his fingers along Scout's scalp slowly, making him shiver. "However, it seems you have become a bit… overexcited." Spy's fingers traced down his chest stomach to the waistband of his pants, then stopped. Scout shuddered. "And that, we are not ready for. Goodnight, mon lapin," he said, and kissed him. 

The kiss was simple and sweet, and Scout's eyes fluttered closed blissfully and all he could think was finally, finally. Scout opened his mouth under Spy's, licked his lips and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, trying to keep him, and Spy let him and their tongues touch for a tiny moment before Spy got up and began returning to the base, as professional as always. Scout spent the next fifteen seconds trying to gather enough brain cells to respond instead of just laying there and panting.

"Night!" he finally called. His chest was still heaving and his hard-on wasn't going away but- but-

"Yeah, hah ha, second base, not fuckin' bad! Yeah, baby!" Scout whooped excitedly and leapt up to punch into the air. That was the best fucking date ever and basically the hottest thing that had happened to him in his whole fucking life. All his brothers would spend so much fuckin' time talkin' about tits and shit, but fuck that, none of those losers ever kissed a BLU Spy. Scout rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand because his lips were tingling something wicked. He could still taste that smoky, bitter, awesome Spy flavor on his tongue.

"Wohoohoo!" Scout shouted into the night again, breaking into a run, switching directions and going faster and faster, dashing forward into a crush that was turning into his first love, and what happened tomorrow didn't mean shit because tonight everything was awesome and kickass and really fucking perfect. He let himself collapse into the ground and rolled over to look at the stars again, and found the one they had been watching when Spy had grabbed his hand. Scout decided that one was theirs, and if he was a sappy kind of guy (and maybe he was, a little) he woulda made a wish and wished for this to be forever.

=

It was poker night again, and they were gonna kick ass. It was only Medic, Heavy, and Engineer, but the pot was still pretty good: There was an extra blanket Medic threw in, and Scout was dying to get his hands on that. In case he wanted to have a sleepover or something. Heh.

"You bitches are smoked. I been practicin', queers." Scout swept up the cards up as they were tossed at him, shit-eating grin plastered all over his face.

Heavy laughed jovially. "Oh, leetle Scout is frightening, yes?" Scout just flipped him off and started arranging his cards in his hand. The game began.

Under the table, they shuffled cards between them just the way they practiced, except now every time their fingers brushed Scout's chest would heat up and he'd have to try really hard not to smile. Once, after the card was passed, Spy ran his thumb over the back of Scout's hand. That made sitting still really hard, and he fell into his habit of bouncing his knees until Spy reached over and gripped his thigh to stop him. And damn right that stopped him real quick.

The game lingered for long enough for the pair of them to accumulate a fantastic hand. Scout snuck his hand under the table again and squeezed Spy's wrist, their code that it was in the bag. Spy folded. Heavy didn't even have one pair, the dope.

"And what configuration of cards do you have, Scout?" Engineer asked. Scout smirked, cocky as shit. He dropped his cards face up. Under the table, he carefully tangled his fingers into Spy's.

"All aces, baby," he said with a grin. "I got myself all fuckin' aces."


End file.
